


Pale Green Eyes

by justalizardking



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Accident, Diary, Diary/Journal, Emergency room, F/M, ICU, Medical Emergency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8997220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalizardking/pseuds/justalizardking
Summary: Life is very fragile and delicate. One moment may be spent in charisma and happiness, and the next could be spent in despair and sorrow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to post all of my short stories onto AO3, and will continue to do so as I continue to write them alongside my main story. Enjoy!

**October 14th, 2016**

I just don’t understand what the whole crisis really means…Is it shock? Is it confusion? Is this all just a bad dream? My eyes just feel sore, worn out, and pale…Yes, pale. Pale green eyes.

The doctor told me writing down my thoughts would help me, so here I am, writing away mindlessly onto the back of an extra E.R. paper. Half of it is already soaked in tears…I don’t think I’ll have much room to write.

There was an accident. Judy and I were t-boned by some drunken buffoon while we on patrol earlier tonight; the damn bastard somehow managed to drive his car away. The squad car, however, was totaled. I’m lucky to make it out with scrapes and bruises, but Judy isn’t as lucky. We arrived at the hospital an hour ago, and all I know is that she is in critical condition.

**October 15th, 2016**

I saw her for the first time today. Even under all of those bandages, the casts, the scars…she’s so beautiful. Her soft ears, delicate head, and shiny fur are as beautiful as she was. The only two things I don’t find beautiful about her are her eyes and her personality- both are obscured under what the doctors hope is a temporary coma. There was brain damage.

I bought a journal for these entries; they seem to help me translate my lost words.

_Note: Buy tissues at the store_

**October 16th, 2016**

Still no sign of brain activity from Judy. Her parents managed to stop by today, with a few select siblings accompanying them. Her condition is starting to stabilize, her wounds beginning to heal…but for some reason she won’t wake up yet. I’ve been told that she should come up within the next couple of days.

**October 19th, 2016**

She still has yet to wake up, despite what the doctors said. It’s been the longest five days of my life, and if she doesn’t wake up soon, it’s going to be an even longer wait.

I’ve only left the hospital twice; once to get Judy a set of clothes for when she gets out of that god-forsaken hospital robe, and the other time to get a candy bar from the convenience store across the street. The cafeteria food at this hospital is absolutely horrific; I’ve thrown up once already trying to eat it. But the rest of the time, I’ve stayed here, sleeping in the hospital chairs beside her.

Every time I hear even the smallest noises, or every time I leave the room to use the restroom, I hope that it’s her waking up. One by one, the bandages begin to be removed from her fragile body. Mostly small wounds, but nevertheless, she seems to be recovered from down under.

**October 19th, 2016 (Entry 2)**

My brain is cruel. I fell asleep at around eight this evening, probably due to a lack of good food and little movement. I had the strangest dream, where she woke up. She woke up, and lit up at the sight of my face. Only then did I reemerge back into reality.

The small area above my left wrist is beginning to bleed. Even after pinching it for five days straight, hoping that the unbearable pain will wake me up from this nightmare, nothing has happened. I’m beginning to fear that this is no dream.

**October 21st, 2016**

The doctors have now classified her to be in a deep coma, and now predict that if she wakes up, then it would be within the next week or so. They estimate that she has a 50% chance of rebounding back to full recover. 75% chance with some degree of brain damage.

If she wakes up. That’s the part that continues to scare me the most.

**October 25th, 2016**

Today is the first day I’ve left the hospital to go sleep in my own apartment. My phone is right beside me in case Judy awakens or gets worse. I’m scared yet hopeful that the phone will ring; I could get the best or worst news of my life if it rings. Yet the silence kills me. I can’t sleep at night. I can’t eat anything, and I feel weaker than ever.

Oh, by the way, apparently Chief Bogo pulled over a guy earlier who looked suspicious; the car and the animal were taken in to questioning.

Who cares?

**October 27th, 2016**

I visited Judy again today, this time for just eight hours. Yesterday I sat beside her, essentially twiddling with my thumbs, for twelve hours. The toys, balloons, and pictures are pilling up. Yesterday, I’d say there were twenty-five balloons, whereas today there must have been fifty by the end of the day. The ZPD all came by and gave me minute amounts of support. It didn’t really help.

The guy Bogo took in a couple of days ago just pled guilty to DUI and hitting us. I want to spill his blood; but ~~when~~ if Judy wakes up, what would she think of me then?

**October 31st, 2016**

Today was the first day the doctors asked me whether we should toss in the towel or not. Of course I backlashed and screamed with all my might. They kept explaining to me that neurological activity was not improving anymore, and that she had now a 25% chance of full recovery. God damn it, I’d keep her alive even if she had a 1% chance of recovery. There’s still a chance.

**November 5th, 2016**

I’ve resumed duties at work for the first time in almost three weeks. I can still barely walk into the ZPD without thinking of her; doing any form of work without her is just painful. I almost don’t want to work at this god forsaken hellhole anymore.

The last time I saw Judy was three days ago, which was the longest time I’d been away from her. Still no call from the hospital. I’m losing so much fucking sleep over it too; every text message, every email, every notification that buzzes my phone sends me into insanity whenever I learn that the hospital did not reach me. I’d say that I’ve had four hours of sleep last night, probably even less the previous nights.

**November 6th, 2016**

Please wake up, Judy. _Please!_ I can’t go on without you…

**November 13th, 2016**

I just saw her yesterday. She still looked as beautiful as the day I met her. Many of her bandages have been removed, and her full body is beginning to shine with all its might. Maybe there is still hope, right?

A new scary statistic came up yesterday as well. 25% chance that she is going to be brain dead. Holy shit.

15% chance of full recovery.

**November 14th, 2016**

Any balloons dropped off from one month ago today onward have long been deflated. Any flowers have wilted. All of the gifts seem to have a fine layer of dust on them. It even feels like the hospital is giving up on her; she is currently in a room lit by only the emergency lights and the necessary medical equipment. I can’t be in there very long with that kind of darkness.

**November 26, 2016**

I can’t believe how long it has been since I’ve heard her beautiful voice. Or seen her beautiful, violet eyes. I…I can’t even…

There was a coin toss today. Chief Bogo didn’t think she would wake up and wanted them to…pull the plug. I was on the other side of the spectrum. I’m still incredibly thankful that the coin landed on heads. After it turned to my favor, I immediately went to the bathroom and threw up. This stress…I can’t take it anymore.

**December 1st, 2016**

5% chance now. If it drops below one…then 

**December 3rd, 2016**

A lung infection is beginning to develop, and they are still running tests to see what it is. The doctors have her at an 80% chance of being brain dead and recommend that we let her rest in peace. I still rejected them once again, reminding that she still had a 3% chance of a full recovery. I practically begged with them to keep her alive longer; it took an awful lot of convincing that I would be able to cover for the bills. 

**December 4th, 2016**

Pneumonia. Her body is currently too weak to fight the infection, and the day I’ve feared has finally arrived. She currently has a 0.5% chance of bouncing back. Five in one thousand….Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

**December 5th, 2016**

The deed is done.

At about five o’clock this evening, they arrived to pick her up. While they gently placed her inside her…her….Bogo instructed us to line up in the hallway of the lobby for the farewell ceremony. I would be at the very end; the last mammal to see her go by before they take her away.

I’ll never forget when Bogo announced us into position. Before I could even respond, I saw her casket rolling down the lobby. A ZPD flag was drapped over and obscured any woodwork, with a couple of violet flowers garnishing the memorial. Many tears were shed as she slowly passed through; they were the only sounds that seemed to echo through the entire hospital. 

Before they took her outside, I stopped the casket. In my back pocket was a pen that I had saved. A very peculiar looking pen with a message weaved within it’s design. 

I placed the carrot pen right in between the two flowers and played the message I’ve heard so many times within the past couple of months for the last time.

“ _I love you, Nick. This has been the best hustle I’ve ever been on.”_

I saluted her, with a tear dribbling down my cheek, and dismissed her outside.

Her funeral is on the tenth.

 


End file.
